


Tea

by phantasmagorighoul (ghoullly)



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Coming Out, Family Fluff, Henry is the father that Michael deserves, LGBTQ Themes, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 14:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20409646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoullly/pseuds/phantasmagorighoul
Summary: Henry finds his godson on his doorstep late at night; he's trembling with anxiety and says he wants to tell him something.He has a feeling that he knows where this is going, but he brews Michael tea, happy to wait all night until he chooses to tell him on his own.(More or less the companion to my other fic, 'Be Happy for Me'!)





	Tea

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been in progress since the beginning of summer! it's nice to have it finished right before the fall months roll along.
> 
> this is very loosely based off of my own coming out; my mom is incredible and i'm so super thankful for her. after writing about william finding out about michael's sexuality, i figured it would only be fair to give michael a nice coming out to someone else who was just as important to him.
> 
> i have a lot of ideas for michael afton/phone guy fics still, so a lot of my five nights content will likely be related to that!
> 
> enjoy xx

Henry was no stranger to these late-night visits; he’d gotten used to them after two-and-a-half decades.

This one just struck him a bit odd, because Michael hadn’t made a visit like this in years, and it was a bit strange to find his 22-year-old godson at his door at 10:30 at night looking just as pitiful as he used to at these times.

But that was family, and when family showed up at his door in need of help, he didn’t turn them down.

(He wouldn’t have turned Michael down anyway.)

Henry bit down the urge to break the uncomfortable silence as he brewed tea for the man that sat on his couch with his lips sealed shut. Piercingly blue eyes counted the threads of the carpet and gangly, calloused fingers picked at each other in quiet anxiety. When he was younger, these visits were much easier to deal with because Charlie was still around and could distract the Afton from his tears while Henry made them all hot chocolate--when he was done he’d take both kids into a bear hug and not let them go until the boy’s cheeks were dry. The trio would spend the rest of the night on the couch watching Scooby-Doo until they’d inevitably black out.

The fact that Charlie was long gone, that Michael was grown up, and that Henry was making only one cup (of tea, no less) made everything seem upsettingly empty. The older man felt dread creep up his spine but forced himself to hurry and finish pouring the tea so he could turn around and dismiss it as quick as it came. 

“No hot chocolate this time?” Henry joked, sitting down on the opposite side of the couch and setting the saucer on the coffee table. This finally cracked a bit of a smile out of the other, who had yet to break his dissociative state. 

“I’m not sure if I could keep it down,” Michael admitted, his voice gravelly. Henry nodded in understanding but didn’t say anything else, absently glancing down at the cup that sat untouched. Feeling his gaze, Michael wordlessly picked it up and shifted his eyes away from the spot he’d been focusing on, hands shaking as he tried to avoid spilling hot tea on himself as he slowly drank.

Henry’s brow furrowed in worry as Mike set it back down, childishly wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Thank you, Henry.” The young man glanced over to his godfather, giving him a half-hearted smile, and Henry nodded and smiled back with just enough warmth to make Michael relax a little bit. 

The elder cracked a grin at a sudden thought to try and break the ice. “You know, you can’t go switching things up on me and start drinking tea now.” This made Michael smile a little wider and Henry ate it up. “You’re gonna become a walking stereotype.”

Michael laughed gently, sounding almost exactly like his father. “Sorry, Henry. Next time, I promise.”

They both felt their hearts recoil just a tad at that.  _ Hopefully there won’t be a next time. _

Henry took this as his cue to be the responsible adult and sighed, resting his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand.

“You alright?”

Michael’s breath hitched and he watched the surface of his tea move in his cup. He felt hot tears threaten to bead at the corners of his eyes but he blinked them away; he couldn’t cry now. He was 22. He needed to grow up. 

Picking the teacup up, he used it as leverage for his shaking hands.

He opened his mouth to try and say something but no words came out. Closing it in frustration, he furrowed his brow and tightened his grip on the cup. Henry leant over and put an affirming hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, Michael, it’s alright, I’m not going to force anything out of you,” Henry smiled comfortingly, Mike feeling like he was little again, “but.”

Mike’s expression fell a bit as his godfather grew serious. “I have to ask, just to check-in with your wellbeing--does this have to do with why you’d come here when you were younger?”

Michael winced and an involuntary hand came up to his head as he felt repressed memories come back. Hearing his father come home in a drunken stupor not long after his younger brother had died and try to get inside his room. He’d escape through his bedroom window and track through backyards and backroads to get to the Emily house; a safe haven. 

It was the best because he knew in the eyes of his father, Henry was untouchable; a god. Nothing bad could ever happen between them for both personal and business reasons, so he would let Michael get away with it every single time. Even now his father had yet to acknowledge all of those times; Mike doubted he ever would.

“No, no, I’m--” Michael rubbed his forehead, feeling Henry relax his grip on his shoulder, “Father hasn’t been that way in years. He’s getting better, I think.”

They both felt the unspoken elephant in the room.

_ But it still happened, past or not. _

Michael forced himself to set his teacup back on its saucer as a way to try and venture closer to his main point. Henry gave him space, clearly seeing he intended to speak.

“I’m sorry, Henry, I don’t know how to go about this.”

Henry raised his eyebrows in surprise, having not expected this. He rubbed his chin in thought.

“That’s alright, Mike. I’ve got all night; you don’t even have to talk to me tonight if you don’t want. The guest room’s always unlocked for you. We can both go to bed and talk about it in the morning.”

Much to his heart’s chagrin, Michael shook his head. “No. I think if I don’t say anything now I never will.”

“O-Oh,” Henry nodded, not sure what to make of any of this confusing encounter so far, “I understand. That’s fine, Mike. I’m right here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

And he was. Michael felt his heart hammer so hard against his ribs he thought they might break. He felt his skin fluctuate between ice cold and burning hot. He felt his arms and legs tremble so bad they ought have turned to jello. The conflicted man kept psyching himself out and encouraging himself to speak within seconds of each other, trapping him in a purgatory of uncomfortable emotions. A man of his word, Henry sat quietly and patiently next to him, eyes closed as they threatened to lull him to sleep while he waited. The only thing keeping Michael above water was thinking about the reason he needed to talk to Henry in the first place and how much better he’d feel once it was all said and done. Now that he’d opened the gate to suspicion, it was better for him to tell him now and rip the bandaid off rather than wait for Henry to put two and two together.

“Henry?” Michael spoke, stirring the other from the half-awake state he was in.

“Sorry, Mike, just resting my eyes.” Mike could hear a twinge of Fredbear’s character voice in Henry’s, pulling the corners of his mouth just a bit. “Are you ready to talk? What’s up?”

Michael cracked his knuckles, using the pressure to try and take some of his anxiety out.

“I... I’ve been thinking about someone a lot lately.”

“Oh?” Henry tilted his head, furrowed brow. “Who?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the urge to stop while he was ahead and aborting the entire thing. But he couldn’t. He needed to deal with this. 

“Someone I... I think I like.”

Henry was quiet; Michael figured he could already guess where this was going but chose to let him speak for himself.

“And I’m just--” Mike put a hand over his mouth, shaking his head, “I’m sorry, Henry. I feel like a child. I’m so confused, Henry. I didn’t think I was...”

“Hey, hey,” Henry wrapped an arm around Michael’s shoulders, pulling him close as he saw the Afton son struggle to fight tears, “don’t cry; don’t get upset, okay? You’re safe here. Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

The relief that washed over Michael was enough to make him completely freeze, his muscles going slack, and he felt his thoughts begin to clear up, just a little. He involuntarily let out a small sob and a stray tear slipped down his cheek.

“He’s... I’m. Um. He’s super sweet. Like, can-do-no-wrong sort of sweet.”

“Really?” Henry still kept his tight grip on his godson’s shoulders, but it didn’t hurt; it was comforting. The engineer hummed, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s always a good place to start. What else?”

“Um.” Michael sheepishly wiped at his cheek with his sleeve. “We’ve only known each other for a couple of months, and have only talked kind of casually, but whenever I’m around him I’ve felt butterflies and couldn’t figure out why.”

“There it is,” Henry laughed, “the butterflies. A definite tell-tale sign. Is that what made you wonder...?”

“Kind of, yes. That, and how he makes my cheeks burn when he smiles at me; that sort of thing.”

“What does he look like, Michael?”

The younger man picked his tea back up, scrunching his brow in thought, hands still shaky but nowhere near as bad. “He’s tan; he’s got real pretty black curls and a nice smile. Kind of nerdy, but I think it’s so charming on him.”

Henry tried to hide a grin as he watched Michael take a drink of his tea, calming down gradually.

“Yeah? Tell me more about him. Is he taller than you?”

Michael hummed in amusement as he swallowed the drink, setting it back down. “Oh, God, no. He’s pretty short, but then again, I’m pretty tall; not that many people are taller than me.”

The younger man caught sight of the increasing grin on his godfather’s face, his heart skipping a beat in nervousness.

“What?”

“You’ve got a crush on little Peter Guerrero?”

Henry couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh as the color drained from Michael’s face, the latter looking absolutely horrified. The older man playfully slapped his godson’s back.

“Oh, relax, Mikey, I won’t say anything.”

“Is it that obvious?” Michael squeaked out, still frozen in fear.

Henry shook his head, a few chuckles still escaping. “Oh, no, no, don’t worry. I had no clue. It’s just that your description matches up with him, and--no offense--you’re like us; you hardly have a life outside of this stupid ass pizzeria, so there’s not many opportunities for you to meet too many different people.”

“...O-Oh... that’s true...” The Afton boy picked up his tea again and sipped it anxiously. Henry blew out a breath, grinning wide as he ran his hands down his face.

“I just--wow. Little Peter.”

“Do you really call him that?” Michael’s voice was pitched up a bit.

“Yeah, actually.” Henry chuckled. “He’s such a nervous little guy and he’s short. He’s a doll, though; he might not think so, but he’s the perfect employee to be our general manager. Your Dad and I call him Little Peter. Little Pete.”

Michael set his drink back down, cheeks no less red. “Does he  _ know  _ that?”

“No. You can tell him if you want; it’s not really a secret. Just a nickname.”

Henry crossed one leg over the other, looking over at his godson and mildly changing the subject. “How did this happen? You said you didn’t realize you were...”

“Oh. Yeah. Well...” Michael played with his hands, trying to look at his godfather but only managing to look at far up as his shoulders. “I was just talking to him for a while, thinking maybe he wanted to be friends. Because, you know...” Henry nodded, hearing the sentence finish in his head.  _ Because I don’t have any anymore. _

“But like, I was talking to him one day, and I just... I don’t know.” The younger of the two averted his gaze, trying to be honest and think about what he had felt. “He... looked so pretty, and I didn’t understand why... when he’d laugh at something I said I’d feel my heart skip against my ribs.” Michael put a hand on his cheek, sighing quietly as he studied the couch cushions. “And then I just--I was lying in bed one night and just staring at the ceiling. I... considered some things about myself that I hadn’t even thought to consider before.”

Henry understood as much as he could; he was straight himself, so he didn’t quite  _ completely  _ understand--empathetically, absolutely. He saw Michael’s eyes grow glossy again and he put an arm around his shoulders. Big blue eyes like his father’s flicked up and were finally able to look Henry in the eye.

“I’d never dated a single girl, ever,” Michael admitted (even though Henry already knew this), “there were girls in my classes who would throw themselves at my feet and I didn’t even care.”

Henry supposed Michael was waiting for responses, but the former just wanted to allow him to vent; he half-suspected-half-knew that he was used to the most important person in his life talking over him. He wanted to be the one that helped lift some of that weight off of Michael’s shoulders.

“I guess I never really understood why... I just never thought much about it, you know?” Michael threw a hand up and chuckled, eyes growing wetter by the seconds. “That’s not something you really consider. My parents are straight, so I thought that’s what I was by default...”

The older pursed his lips but didn’t say anything. That wasn’t  _ entirely  _ true, but just as he wasn’t going to tell William Michael’s business, he figured it was only fair to keep the same respect the other way around.

“But I started thinking. There were workers at the restaurant that I had thought were fairly attractive, but I just thought that was me being able to acknowledge when another guy was good looking?” Michael laughed now, and tears streamed down his cheeks, Henry wiping some of them away with a handkerchief he had in his pocket. “Like I’d look at them, and in my head I would go, ‘Damn. He’s got really nice cheekbones,’ or ‘Wow, his eyelashes are really pretty; they bring out his eyes’.”

“Now you’re going to have me trying to figure out what employees you’re talking about,” Henry jokes, and this was enough to get Michael to burst into harder laughter, lower lip quivering as he palmed at his cheek.

“You and Dad hire a lot of super attractive guys,” he said, sniffling, “Good luck.”

Henry smiled gently, squeezing Michael’s shoulder and pulling him a bit closer. “But none are as good looking as Peter?”

“Oh,  _ hell  _ no.” Michael wept, the relief that was upon him enough to make him melt into the couch. “Peter is an Adonis. He’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.”

“I see.” Henry allowed Michael to rest his head against his shoulder as he cried his eyes out, incredibly thankful for his godfather. He had an escape route planned if things didn’t turn out as lucky as they had; that escape route would lead him to Peter’s house, but his parents knew they were friends, so they wouldn’t have minded him staying for the night.

Michael was eternally grateful that he didn’t have to attempt an escape and was able to completely open up to Henry.

Henry, on the other hand, was equally as grateful for Michael. He had lost Charlie and had Sammy taken from him when his wife had left, so the Afton children were the closest thing he had. Elizabeth and Cassidy had both met unfortunate ends cutting their lives short, leaving Michael as the sole survivor standing amidst the rubble. He was like a son to Henry--not  _ only _ his godson--and he had prayed that Michael saw at least something similar in him. Sitting there with him sobbing in relief against his shoulder confirmed that to the tired man; it made him happy, which was something that came rarely these days.

The tea on the table had long gone cold by the time Michael had calmed down for the most part; he sniffled and hiccuped and wiped at his face with Henry’s handkerchief. Henry could barely keep his eyes open from fatigue, but he didn’t mind it.

“So are you and Peter dating?--”

“-- _ No,” _ Michael blurted, waving his hands, “I don’t even know if he’s gay; p-please don’t say anything--”

“--Hey, hey, I won’t bud, it’s okay.” Henry smiled, rubbing one of his eyes. His voice was gravelly. “Just a question. That’s all.”

Michael sucked in a deep breath and nodded, glancing around the room. There was something about how still everything was that told how late it had gotten. The Afton grabbed his teacup and saucer, standing up. “I’ve--talked for too long. I should leave you be now.”

“Mikey, you’re okay; don’t be ridiculous.” Henry stretched, letting out a yawn and staying where he was. “You’re family. My house is yours; you’re welcome here anytime, no matter how late it is.”

The younger adult cleaned up the little mess he made, a smile on his face when Henry had spoken again.

“I’m proud of you.”

Michael fought off the urge to cry again, turning to look at his godfather. Time and stress had begun to wrinkle his face, and the hair on both his head and his beard was beginning to turn grey, but when he saw Henry he saw someone that had been there for him his entire life. No matter how he looked he would always be Uncle Henry--the cooler (and better) of Michael’s two fathers.

“Really...?”

“Yes. It means the world to me that you wanted--and trusted me--to tell me this, Michael... thank you.” 

Henry stood up and wrapped his arms around his godson, ruffling his hair like he used to when he was little. Michael smiled, hugging Henry back, and it still felt like he was hugging a big teddy bear; Fredbear suited him well.

“You’re the only person who knows,” Michael whispered over Henry’s shoulder. The elder nodded, letting him go, and gently taking the dishes from him.

“I won’t say anything, of course,” Henry spoke as he took the dishes to the kitchen sink, “but if I’m being honest? I don’t think you need to worry about Dad.”

“You don’t think so...?” That surprised Michael, and he was still going to keep it a secret from him as long as he could, but he was intrigued. His godfather hummed and nodded.

“Will is scary sometimes, absolutely, but at the end of the day you’re his son; he’ll love you unconditionally, no matter what your identity is.” 

Michael let those words bounce around in his mind as the water ran and the dishes clinked together. Henry closed the dishwasher and the Afton decided he still wasn’t going to tell his own father. They were all the other had left of their once-large family; he didn’t need something to strain their relationship even further than it was.

“My lips are sealed, Mike,” Henry mimed the action. “The moment you let the world know is entirely yours; until you choose to come out fully--if ever--the secret will die with me.”

“Thank you, Henry.” His voice was breathy in incredible gratitude.

His father’s best friend glanced over at the wall clock. “It’s already 2:30 in the morning.”

“Is it--??” Michael scrambled in search of his coat. “Bloody hell, I’m so sorry--”

“--Who said you had to leave?” Henry yawned, going toward the stairs. “Spend the night. I don’t mind. Like I said, the guest room is always open, unless you wanted to sleep on the couch.”

The tall brunet watched him for a moment before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “R-Really? Are you sure?”

“I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't serious.”

Thoughtlessly, Michael was by Henry’s side in an instant, throwing his arms around him and squeezing him tightly one last time. The elder smiled, hugging him back with an equal amount of intensity.

“Thank you so much, Henry,” Michael said, “for everything.”

“Of course.” Henry had to fight off tears himself; luckily, they never fell.

They let each other go and Henry gave Michael one last hair ruffle before going up the stairs. “You know where the towels are if you wanted to shower; I had leftovers for dinner and those are in the fridge if you’re hungry. Help yourself to anything you want.”

Michael nodded, watching his godfather and staring up the steps until he heard his bedroom door close. He looked around, taking in the room.

This house was empty; it was a skeleton of what it once was, with family photos plastered all over the walls and children playing in its halls. There was hardly any furniture with a handful of portraits remaining. A few stuck out--the Emily family photo, a picture of Henry and his father, Charlie and Sammy, Sammy, Charlie. There were a couple pictures of Michael, Cassidy, and Elizabeth as well. 

This house was empty, yes, but somehow it still felt like more of a home than his own house did.

Michael hummed, rubbing his eye, and turned the lamp off to lay on the couch.

His chest felt a lot less constricted now, and that was enough to lull him off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i know the midnight motorist minigame likely isn't william because of the lack of purple symbolism, but i think it's interesting to think about.
> 
> have a great day xx


End file.
